Hot Zone Page 2

"You could've simply shared."

  She must have gotten a charge out of the contact too, judging by the way she crossed her arms over her breasts.

  Frank tapped his finger on the table. “Fontana has been loaned to us by the Seattle group because of her former knowledge and expertise in flying the South American route."

  Unable not to look at her, Jake turned in his chair to see her gazing back at him, her lips curved into a Mona Lisa smile.

  She did have a way about her.

  The meeting took on a sense of urgency. Frank set up a preliminary look at the flight to Nicaragua and take down of Azizi.

  "Claypool and Fontana will fly a confiscated plane that belonged to a drug smuggler from Colombia. The aircraft has been retooled and outfitted by the Army for long-range flights. All amenities have been removed to conserve on fuel."

  "A Baron?” Fontana wrote something in his notebook she blatantly took over. “A nice choice, Frank."

  Frank? Pretty damn cozy already. Jake wanted to smirk in her direction. He didn't even rate a smile or a kiss-my-ass, and she calls the supervisor by his first name. Jesus, man. Get it together.

  She grimaced and shoved his notebook in his direction. “I forgot to bring mine. Sorry for touching your stuff."

  Jake wanted to come back with something that would un-snap her bra but kept his mouth clamped shut. He'd think of something appropriate later.

  Frank went on, apparently satisfied with the team he was sending to put a stinking terrorist out of commission.

  "Okay, we know Azizi is holed up in his stronghold in northern Nicaragua because of a recent heroin overdose. That couldn't have come at a better time. He won't be running off anytime soon."

  "He's a doper?” She sounded surprised.

  "He got hooked on the junk while being treated for a social disease. Don't ask me which one."

  The group remained quiet, but there were several grins because of the supervisors comment. He looked through his notes before resuming. “The plan is for agents Claypool and Fontana to fly to a private airstrip outside Granada owned by a well compensated farmer. There'll be a four wheel drive waiting there for them."

  Jake tried to recall when a mission went the way it had been laid out. He couldn't. “Is there a head count on his paid thugs?"

  "He travels light. Always has nine goons with him. He's superstitious about numerals.” Frank waited while Jake thought over the odds.

  "Nine?” Jake flipped his notebook cover down. “We should be able to handle that."

  "I realize this is being carried out as black ops, and will be deniable, but you're going to try to take him without confronting his men. Period."

  Jake saw no need to bring up the fact that the supervisor's expectations were probably unattainable. It wouldn't happen. Hot lead was going to fly and people were going to die. He just hoped he wasn't one of them. And, now there was his new partner. If she could shoot as well as she tossed bull, he'd come out of this in one piece.

  Jake's head ached with the information dump Frank had laid on them. The man had asked the impossible. Plus he wondered about Fontana. Okay, stop thinking of her as a woman. She carries the same weapon you do, and gone through the same training.

  Only one problem. He wasn't sure he would be able to stop thinking of her as a hot little number, one that smelled of apple blossoms.

  Chapter Three

  Jessica studied Jake's profile, trying to figure him out. His sudden change of attitude from grump to Mister Nice Guy didn't impress her. He probably had a dozen women squirreled away, so hitting on her wasn't on his mind. Not yet. But, he wasn't the type to buy her coffee just to regale her with tales of his history in the department. All seven years of it. Men. Right now, she could do without ever seeing one again.

  One in particular. She relented and let her mind bring her fiancé into the mix. Her soft snort went un-noticed as she mentally said his name. Peter. A man should have a masculine rough name, like her partner here. Jake.

  Her mood darkened. She'd been with Peter Dykstra three years, and, until recently, there hadn't been any problems. Not really. He'd occasionally given her flack over some of the books she read and movies she liked. Yes, she loved the old movie channel and soft jazz was her music. Too ordinary. The criticism had become persistent and irritating.

  And lately, there was the carping about her home and her friends and the biggest issue, her job.

  Jake nudged her arm. “Whatever you're thinking about will still be there if we go have coffee."

  She pulled herself together and focused on his face. His suddenly attractive face. His skin glowed with a healthy tan and close shave. He probably used skin conditioner. “Just trying to remember if I left the iron hooked up in my apartment.” Good, he laughed at her self-deprecating comment. They might get along after all.

  The coffee shop he spoke of was close by. They walked together with little conversation until they were inside the attractive brick building. The big glass windows in front sported blue and white gingham, ruffled curtains.

  Because they weren't staying long, they sat at the gleaming counter on red leather and chrome stools. The aromas of brewing coffee and fresh cinnamon rolls filled the shop. She thought of home and Sunday mornings.

  The place was cozy with clean floors and neatly groomed waitresses that brought coffee with a smile and smelled of perfume. Jessica loved the frilly handkerchiefs pinned in the pockets of their starched pink uniforms. They all had French manicures and clean looking hands.

  The coffee was excellent, straight, and strong. From the corner of her eye, she watched Jake drop four sugar cubes into his cup. He took a cake donut from the glass domed display case next to him.

  "That's a lot of sugar, Claypool."

  "I need it.” He bit into the donut and took another from the case. “Want one?"

  Tempting as it was, Jessica declined. “No thanks. Coffee is plenty."

  "Suit yourself. I need the energy to hold me over until this evening."

  She was only mildly curious about what he did with his free time. “You don't eat until evening?"

  He chewed a couple times and then nodded. “I'm too busy to waste two hours a day stuffing my face."

  "Sounds like you're non-stop busy.” She thought he might drop some personal information about himself.

  "Yeah, but not that busy. Just a routine I've gotten into."

  To her, that sounded like a divorced man. Confirmed bachelor? Gay? What was wrong with her? What did she care? She didn't give a rip what he did. She didn't want to reveal tidbits about her miserable personal life. Work, let's talk work.

  "Have you heard of Azizi before now?"

  Jake stirred his coffee. “Yeah, he's been on the radar for a while. We inherited him from CID. They found him too insignificant, even though he's taken the heads of American citizens."

  She nudged his arm. “I'd like to see what you have."

  "I'd love to show you what I have."

  He grinned at her for the first time, and her stomach did a mini buck and wing.

  Jake paid their tab, and, ten minutes later, they were back at work, pouring over the information they had on Azizi.

  Jessica found that he hadn't overstated the amount of good information HSD had on Azizi. She sat with Jake in his cubicle and studied the habits and life of a man who had every material wealth but no compassion. His bloodlust had claimed countless lives.

  The picture of a young family seemed sad to her. Azizi held a baby and the attractive woman that was listed on the back as his mother held a fluffy, gold colored dog. That seemed to be quite telling of her preferences. The children came in a low second after the mutt. Azizi, the boy stared ahead and his eyes had no sparkle or gleam.

  She voiced her thoughts. “Funny. He doesn't look the type."

  Jake leaned back in his chair and glanced at the picture in her hand. “They never do."

  Jessica could imagine Claypool at that age, strutting his stuff for the camera and eyes bla
zing with a mean streak.

  After a few minutes of silence, he brought up the subject again. “I'm interested. What makes a guy look like a killer to you?"

  "That smug, wrinkled smile around the eyes. A certain tilt of the head and lips. This guy doesn't enjoy anything."

  A sense of being stared at made her look in Jake's direction. Oh, Lord. She should have focused on the picture.

  His eyes were spring-storm blue and seemed to take in every detail of her face. Probably not. She was well aware her partner was a total legman.

  She shifted her gaze to the video screen where a recent photo of Azizi was displayed. Somehow, she could only see Jake.

  Tonight, she had to call her fiancé. She was getting off track not knowing what he was thinking or doing. This had to be settled and soon. She had no time to spend chasing him down each time he flew into a snit. She was thirty-one, not sixteen.

  Jake enlarged the photo and then put another CD in the machine. “We have this tape of Azizi's voice as he toast's a bride and groom."

  Jessica nodded and waited for him to turn up the volume. Jake didn't say anything, only grinned while she listened to the voice that sounded as if it had swallowed a tank of helium. Straight out of a cartoon, but she didn't laugh.

  She straightened the files on the table. “That's kind of funny.

  "Hell yes.” His laugh was nice.

  They moved on in their study of the target. She liked the fact that when she asked a question, he had an answer that made sense. Something about this photo of Azizi puzzled her. One of many things.

  She gazed at the man in the brightly colored photo and the huge slice of watermelon he was consuming. Unlike the average person, his expression didn't reveal any pleasure.

  "He's constantly eating.” She examined the man and his treat closely.

  "He's never satisfied.” Jake's smile was crooked.

  "Says here, Azizi is five foot four. Not too good on a killers self image."

  "He special orders shoes with lifts in them. Adds several inches to his height.” Jake gazed at her like he'd known her a lifetime, waiting for her thoughts on the un-handsome man in the picture.

  She wanted to grin. Guys that looked like Claypool always felt superior to men like Azizi. They were complete opposites. Claypool was six foot of lean virile muscle, and Azizi was a shrimp. An effeminate looking, overweight guy with too much power and wanting to prove his manhood, had chosen the way of the monster.

  "So, he's a playboy?” She didn't understand how that could be, but it was possible.

  "To the max.” Jake's expression was smug. “It's been documented from extremely reliable sources that he's damned sorry in the sack. His family shuns him since he strayed form the path of righteousness. He slept in lots of beds while he was in France."

  Jessica's thoughts rushed back to her own situation.

  Her fiancé had stopped wanting sex months ago. Why hadn't she wondered about that? Or, cared?

  Oh, yeah. She definitely had to do something about her cruddy life and do it soon.

  The room seemed cozier in the late afternoon light pouring through the windows. Jake took her full attention when he stood and went to look at the duty roster board.

  He tapped the list of names and then looked at her. “We're penciled in for weapons proficiency tomorrow.” He was getting his sport coat that he'd removed earlier. “Not much going on here. You feel like going to the track for a run right now?"

  Okay. Now he was going to show her how fast and strong he was. He thought. Jessica stood and walked to where he braced a hand on the wall.

  "Sure thing.” Like a real ingénue, she smoothed her hair. “I'll just have to get my things from the hotel the Department set me up in."

  "Hey, no problem.” He reached into a wall cabinet and handed her a set of keys. “Your assigned car is number 69."

  His smile was cute, disarming, and totally challenging.

  "Why don't you show me where my hotel is? I don't have the lay of the land yet.” She smoothed her skirt, giving her rear an extra rubdown for his benefit. “Ready?"

  He seemed to have a problem pulling his gaze from her backside. Good deal. She wanted him to be distracted for their workout on the track. Workout, nothing. He was going to test her, find out who the best man was. He would learn to live with disappointment, because it would ultimately be the best woman he lost to.

  Chapter Four

  Car 69 drove like a dream and was squeaky clean, except for the wadded up gum wrapper on the floor mat. As Jessica followed Jake through the late afternoon traffic, she suspected he led her on a fox chase.

  Using the electronic map on the dash, her suspicions were confirmed. What should have taken ten minutes turned into twenty-five.

  He stopped at a light and turned his left turn signal on. Pulling up behind him, she could see him gazing at her in the rearview mirror. Probably thinking he'd lost her.

  If she read the dashboard map right, her hotel was just down the block. This was the place. Very nice, appearing to be set in a mini forest of trees that seemed to grow out of the steaming sidewalk. Did it ever cool down in Texas? She noticed an Italian restaurant within walking distance. And a bar. No chance of seeing the inside of that place.

  She followed Jake up the driveway to the front entrance. He got out and came back to tap on her window, waiting until she lowered it.

  "I'll go in with you. Just to make sure everything's ready.” His smile was barely visible, but she had seen it.

  Was he thinking of getting in her silkies? Probably. If not, she wasn't much of a woman. If nothing else, Claypool was going to be a hot and fun diversion while she was in Texas.

  "Sure thing.” Jessica got out of her car and watched him drive away. What she felt wasn't guilt when a tingle of anticipation skipped up her spine. Maybe this wasn't going to be as much fun as she thought. He didn't appear to be in any difficulty over her, and here she was shivering like it was prom night.

  Yes, it was guilt that made her jump when the bellhop came up behind her.

  "Welcome to Dallas.” He stepped back to let her move away from the car. “I'll see to your luggage, Ma'am."

  She shook her head. “One small bag is all I have with me. My luggage should have arrived here this morning."

  "Yes, Ma'am."

  She handed him the keys. He took her bag from the trunk and assured her he would handle things.

  "I'll see to everything, and, while you register, I'll park your car."

  "Thank you.” She glanced around. “I appreciate it."

  Okay, so Claypool left. She had been dumped a few times. But damn, she wanted him to take her to the track and try to make her cry uncle.

  The bellhop led the way to the lobby and left her at the front desk where she got her key card. She headed for the elevators, hit by a wilting sensation until someone called her name.

  "Fontana."

  A zing of excitement shimmied up her spine. “I thought you might have decided to go ahead without me."

  She had to reign in her crazy, illicit, unexplained desire to be with this guy. Jake was a lone wolf, prowling for a quick piece of ass, and she was oozing enough pheromone for six women. And, for the moment, she wasn't a free woman.

  He cupped her elbow in his damned wonderful male hand and walked her into the elevator. She couldn't help it if she swayed into him when the elevator lurched.

  "Hey, you okay, Fontana?"

  "Yeah."

  She heard his deep intake of breath as he leaned close, his nose imperceptivity grazing her cheek. “What the hell is that?"

  She stuttered much to her disgust. “Wh..What's what?"

  His hand grazed her lower back. “The way you smell."

  "Family secret."

  The tension in his body radiated to her loud and clear. Dear Lord! So this was how a one-night stand with a stranger made you feel? Jake's voice stroked her breasts making the cheeks of her ass tighten.

  "Secret, huh? I'm pretty good at u
nwrapping secrets."

  Whush!

  The door opened in time to pull her back into reality.

  "This is my floor.” Could she have sounded anymore stupid?

  He looked up and down the hall, his cowboy attitude making him too hot to ignore. “Yup, looks like it, Ma'am."

  Hell. He wasn't helping her remember her job or her fiancé. You will do the adult thing and get on the phone as soon as you can and call Peter.

  "I'll go in and see if my luggage has arrived.” Well sure he would stare at you for not inviting him in. Why did she feel like Little Red asking the wolf in for a bite? “Come on in while I change."

  He nodded and sauntered into the suite, giving the place a quick once over before leveling his gaze on her.

  Her luggage had arrived and was placed neatly on the padded bench at the foot of her California King bed. My God! Why on earth would anyone need a bed of that size? She quickly moved away from the inviting bed with its white and crimson comforter and umpteen tasseled pillows.

  She opened both the pieces of luggage, searching through them until she found her running shoes and turquoise terry pants. She pulled out the matching short-sleeved pullover.

  Jessica turned and noticed Jake studying the picture of her fiancé clipped to the inside of her suit carrier. The photo had been there for a year or more and lately she had given its removal some thought. He seemed to be passing silent opinion on Peter, and her stomach knotted with anger at Jake. She shouldn't be.

  Peter was a good-looking man. Oh sure, Jake was a hell of a lot more macho and could hold his own in any fight, but Peter had other qualities. Stop it! Why the hell are you defending that guy after he's practically ignored your existence?

  Jake arched a brow and gestured in a negligent manner toward the photo. “Boyfriend or husband?"

  Okay. She'd been too nice too long. Time to play Dick and Jane with this hot shot. “Does it matter?"

  The couch made a creaking noise as he stood and took a step toward her. “Not a damn bit."

  Getting dressed wasn't the real reason for her fast exit from the living room. He was calling her bluff, and she was enjoying it far too much.